


The Cat And Venus

by ThisThatAndTheOther



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: But it's kinda sweet too, Established Relationship, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisThatAndTheOther/pseuds/ThisThatAndTheOther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if that night didn’t end with betrayal, burnt letters, and tears. Instead, Phillip took Thomas on as his valet, and ten years later, far away from Downton, Thomas is his butler and the love of his life. Phillip decides to be nice and give him something special. An AU where everything is fantastic and nothing hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cat And Venus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Phillip had never considered himself a romantic. He had certainly enjoyed the benefits of romance over the years, Love bestowing her gifts generously, but he had always managed to keep his feet firmly on the ground during these flights of fancy. As a realist, he valued the clear thinking he could entertain when not distracted by love. But sometimes, he was willing to suspend pragmatism and indulge certain, soppier parts of his personality. Which was why, even when there was no actual call for celebration, he would spoil his lover with gifts. After ten years, his desire to shower his lover had only grown more frequent and more difficult to ignore over; after ten years, his relationship with Thomas was reason enough.

“Now, now. No peeking,” he sang, keeping his hands firmly pressed against Thomas’ closed eyes as they walked into his bedroom. What was their shared bedroom, really, as Thomas had slept by his side almost every night since coming under his employ first as valet and now as butler.  They made an awkward pair, as Phillip walked closely behind Thomas, shadowing each hesitant step into the room. He chuckled when Thomas swung an arm backwards to tap Phillip’s backside with one hand, while the other groped the air before him blindly. Phillip merely danced away from his touch; he was overcome with excitement over this particular present.

“I can hardly see through your hands, even if I wanted to,” Thomas grumbled, but Phillip was familiar with his tone. As much as he liked to pretend he was unimpressed by these overtures, Phillip knew by the sheen in his eyes afterwards, when he thanked him, that he was always secretly very pleased and touched by each present he received.

The bounty in question sat atop their bed, and Phillip thanked the heavens that it hadn’t yet made a noise, alerting Thomas to what it was and ruining the surprise (the surprise was always Phillip’s favourite part). Phillip had never spent a lot of time with kittens, but he had been led to believe that they could meow quite loudly and often. But this little guy, a dark puff of fur and pink skin, was content to lay akimbo on their duvet in silence, its eyes glued on the two men lurching into the room.

“Are you ready?” Phillip whispered in Thomas’ ear. Phillip had been ready for weeks – as soon as he had decided on getting the cat in fact – and was quite impressed with himself that he had kept it a secret for so long; but he wanted to draw the moment out for as long as possible. He lived to tease Thomas, who was so easy and fond a target at times.

He could see from behind that Thomas smiled in spite of himself and nodded underneath his hands, “You know I have been since you hinted at this _surprise_ at luncheon.”

“Ah, but you see, I have to be absolutely certain. I wouldn’t want to spoil it,” he smiled, “Timing is everything, my dear, just like when we dance.”

Phillip could feel the flutter of dark lashes against his palms as Thomas rolled his eyes even with his lids closed. He would take pity on the man, he decided, and removed his hands slowly. His fingers lingered on the other’s neck, stroking downwards, following the strong lines of his partner’s shoulders.

“Still no peaking! I wish to see your face when you see it,” he said as he circled the other man, moving to sit on the bed next to the impossibly small kitten. He took a moment to appraise Thomas, who still kept his eyes shut as instructed. He had barely aged in the time they spent together, though laugh lines were now visible in the crease of his clenched eyes; his body still filled out the hard lines of his suit handsomely, almost cruelly in how well it fit. Thomas shifted impatiently and raised an eyebrow, as even this was unusually unkind a wait for Phillip.

Phillip sniffed affectedly, “Yes, well, you may open them now.”

He leaned back onto his hands smugly as he watched Thomas reveal his blue eyes. Phillip could hardly contain his grin as he watched those eyes zero in on the small bundle of fur in the middle of the bed.

“A cat,” Thomas blinked.

Phillips’ cheeks hurt he smiled so wide, “Yes, a cat. Isn’t he precious?” The kitten in question took that moment to release a body-quaking sneeze that was accompanied by an adorable squeak.

Thomas’ was unmoved by the kitten’s charm, and was in fact looking a little offended by the tiny noise.

“You got me a cat,” he continued, lips pursing indifferently.

Phillips smile waned, “Yes, do you not like it?”

Thomas’ eyes widened as his eyebrows rose ever so slightly, crinkling the skin on his forehead briefly. He shook his head, “No, no. I—do…”.

He had a terrible poker face, Phillip observed, and not for the first time either; however, he wouldn’t have it any other way, as he found it all rather endearing to have such a serious butler, a partner, that could be so easily known, betrayed by his body’s little ticks and tells.

“But?”

Thomas looked stricken. “But what are we to do with it?”

Phillip laughed, “Well, I assume care for it like a pet. Feed it when it’s hungry, stroke it when it wants love. Much like you and I.”

It was Thomas’ turn to laugh. “That can’t possibly be a pet.”

“And why not?” Phillip was confused; it was a domesticated cat of somewhat indiscernible breeding. A friend of a friend had a litter on offer, and Phillip could not refuse, for once not caring to have the most impressive or beautiful of something; if this was not a pet, then he was not sure what was.

“I come from a family where _that_ ,” he pointed at the kitten, “was something best left to wander the fields. My mother had a hard enough time feeding us to have to worry about another mouth to feed. She would have likely used her rolling pin against it if a cat ever came a-calling.”

Phillip grimaced at the thought, his imagination supplying a slightly softer, curvier Thomas filling out an apron chasing after kittens with a bloodied rolling pin.

“Well, you’re not a part of that family anymore,” he reached out to touch Thomas’ hand, kissing his knuckles, “You’re with me, and I say that it is, most unquestionably, a pet. Surely we can afford to set aside a small portion of cream for its dinner.”

Thomas looked unconvinced, but he took a seat next to Phillip. Phillip was dismayed to see he left a generous space between himself and the kitten. Deciding to rectify that, Phillip scooped up the small creature and placed it into Thomas’ unsuspecting hands, who hunched over his burden almost comically, eyes wide as he stared at the now squirming kitten trying to escape his broad hands.

“We can’t keep it; it’s hardly weaned!”

Phillip scoffed, his enthusiasm quickly cooling in the wake of Thomas’ unanticipated and ungrateful disinterest. “I should scarcely say it will confuse you for its mother…” At Thomas’ glare, he continued, “Oh come on, I did this for you! Don’t look so cross.”

“I’m not cross,” Thomas mumbled, as he continued to juggle the wriggling mess of fuzz. When Phillip looked closely, he could see the hint of a smile pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“You’ll have to give it a name, of course,” Phillip continued.

All at once the smile disappeared and Thomas’ shoulders tensed. The kitten mewled pathetically as it was all but dropped back onto the duvet. Phillip rubbed its head instinctively and gave his partner a scathing look.

Thomas stood, wiping his hands on his pants, “I’ve still quite a bit left to do tonight, and I need to speak with Timothy about you needing a ride to the train station on Wednesday. So don’t wait up – I expect to be late.”

It was a weak excuse to leave their room, but Phillip was content not to challenge it. He knew how little arguing was worth when Thomas riled stubbornly as he was wont to do, and how trying the resulting row would become. Phillip was also a little sore at the thankless reception and would rather not look at Thomas for longer than necessary.

Thomas walked to the door and hesitated, “Thank you,” he said quietly, not quite making Phillip’s eyes before he strode out of the bedroom. Phillip merely rolled his eyes and looked towards the unwanted cat. It nuzzled against his open hand, tugging mercilessly at his heartstrings. He picked it up and marvelled at how it seemed to weigh little more than air itself. He stared fondly at the kitten as it began to squirm against his hold.

“Well that didn’t go as it was supposed to, now did it, Sir Cat?” Until Thomas came around, Phillip supposed, ‘Sir Cat’ would have to do because no matter how much Thomas chose to reject it, the cat was staying.

True to his word, Thomas was late. So late, in fact, that Phillip didn’t wake when he came to bed; nor did he stir when Thomas left in the early morning, but that was not entirely unusual. Thomas preferred to rise early – much earlier than Phillip ever needed or wanted to be awake – to get a start on his day’s duties. He rarely saw fit to wake him, something that Phillip was vaguely glad for without ever really considering it.

While they were very much a couple joined in what Phillip coined unholy matrimony, Thomas was still very much his butler and was responsible for the efficient management of the property as one of Phillip’s servants and had a fair bit of work to do each day. He was, however, allowed far greater authority over Phillip’s affairs than his last butler had – powers that also extended but were not limited to the bedroom; supervising his estate and his employees was something Phillip cared little for and something Thomas enjoyed greatly, a mutually beneficial trade-off where Phillip was concerned.

Thomas also left their shared bed early so that Phillip’s valet would never walk in on them in-situ. While the servants he had hired were culled specifically for their ability to look the other away or, in the case of a few naïve hallboys and maids, their inability to read subtlety, Thomas and Phillip agreed they wouldn’t push their luck; so it was with little whinging that Thomas would return to the rooms afforded to the butler and begin his day there. Though Gregory, his valet, surely suspected their relationship, especially with how Phillip was now considered a confirmed bachelor in most social circles. But they hadn’t offered George any explicit proof, and he didn’t go looking for it, which suited Phillip fine. After nearly ten years under his employ, starting first as footman, then valet to replace Thomas, Gregory had proven to be trustworthy. And with both of his parents dead and his brothers in America, there were few others in the house that mattered.

Phillip did not see his partner until later in the morning, when he decided to have breakfast. He nodded at Thomas, who was standing at the end of the serving table, as he walked into the room. The butler glanced briefly at the kitten Phillip held in his hands but said nothing, keeping the very same silence as he must have the previous night when he discovered that the kitten shared a section of their bed. Phillip sat down with a flourish and placed his charge next to him next to his plate, relishing the small tick that Thomas failed to contain at the sight. He began to tear at the kipper, shredding it into small pieces devoid of small bones while the kitten yowled at his side. When he had amassed a small pile of fish, he began to hand feed the hungry kitten; a smug smile tugged at his lips as he noticed the clench of Thomas’ jaw.

“You know, Mr. Barrow, it’s quite sweet if you only just let it be,” he said, watching as the kitten licked the oil off of his fingers.

“It’s unsanitary, is what it is,” he heard Thomas mumble, which Phillip chose to ignore. He merely smiled and nodded with thanks when the footman set down a bowl of cream on the table. Phillip turned towards his newspaper when the kitten began to lap at the cool liquid.

And soon a pattern had emerged. Phillip would dine with the kitten for most meals while it was still young, insisting that it needed spoiling, while Thomas would look on in distaste. Phillip felt a little silly for having formed such an attachment to what was _supposed_ to be Thomas’ cat, but he couldn’t resist those dewy green eyes when they looked up at him with what he was convinced was affection. Thomas, meanwhile, largely ignored the thing, only grumbling in annoyance about how unhygienic it was whenever he had to share the bed with the growing kitten, which, Phillip was satisfied to say, was most nights. As the cat was the first of Phillip’ many gifts that Thomas seemed to genuinely dislike, Phillip took pleasure in riling him so in retaliation. What was the point of having a pet, if not to spoil it, he wondered.

**

Within a month, the kitten seemed to double in size, its dark coat deepening to include a varying arrange of browns and oranges, while its belly, chest, and paws remained cleansed with a swatch of pure white hair. The fur that circled its neck thickened until it became an impressive mane atop which its delicate head, consisting of impossibly small bones and teeth, sat in almost permanent regal surveillance of everyone in the house. Phillip didn’t think it was possible, but he loved the animal more than when it had first arrived. The older it grew, however, the less time it spent with him, and most times he caught himself wondering where it was. It always managed to find its way back during meal times, and it always found its spot on the duvet between Thomas and him at night.

Currently, Phillip sat in his study writing a few personal letters, while the cat was on one of its private wanderings. He just put his pen to paper when Thomas barged into the room, causing him to scratch his nib deeply across the page.

“Your cat,” Thomas snarled, “brought in a dead squirrel today.”

“My cat?” He didn’t know why he contested it; though it was intended to be Thomas’, it was most positively his by now, if only because Thomas ignored its existence most times.

“You can be certain no cat of mine would be so uncivilised, make no mistake,” Thomas all but growled as he moved to stand in front of the desk, “it dragged the bloody thing – and I do mean ‘bloody’ in the literal sense – all across me kitchens! Mrs. Lawrence is in a right state. It’d be a wonder if we all don’t contract some disease from the mongrel.”

Phillip chose to ignore the fact that Thomas seemed to think that a bit of squirrel could infect an entire household and that he had caused a half-written letter to be ruined. Instead he took a moment to enjoy Thomas lather himself into a fluster.

“Well it’s only natural, Thomas,” Phillip conceded, letting his fountain pen to fall from his fingers, “It is a wild animal, after all. I’m rather proud. To think our little kitten is capable of taking down the nimble _Sciurus vulgaris_.”

Then Thomas’ choice of words struck him odd.

“But you said ‘ _cat of yours_ ’?” He smirked, “So now you can entertain the idea of having a cat. As a pet. Perhaps you like him more than you let on.”

Thomas’ eyes narrowed into a withering look that spoke volumes, “It was a turn of phrase,” he enunciated, still probably smarting from the clean-up duty he had been roped into.

“Do you admire our widdle hunter?”

Thomas sighed, shaking his head, “I’m leaving if you’re going to be like this.”

“But don’t you want to squish his adowable, widdle face, Thomas?”

Thomas huffed and turned towards the door.

Phillip stood. “Ah, come now. Your secret’s safe with me,” he called as Thomas fled the study, “you think him _paws-itively purrrrrfect_ , don’t you, Thomas?”

Against all desire to continue to torment his partner about the cat, he let the matter drop; he valued his life, and more specifically his life between the sheets, too much to bring it up again. Instead, he continued to pamper the feline as if it were his own child and ignore Thomas’ determined disapproval.

“What do you think of him, Gregory?” Phillip asked his valet one day after being dressed, as he held the surprisingly heavy kitten in his arms.

“Oh, I’d say he’s very handsome, Your Grace,” Gregory nodded and stooped to scratch behind its ear, offering an unobstructed view to his striking, unblemished profile, “Much better than the filthy cats I’ve seen at the farm.”

Phillip began to stroke the cat under his chin, eliciting a rumble of contented purrs from its chest, “Yes, he is beautiful. It’s just a shame that Thomas doesn’t seem to think so.”

Gregory hesitated slightly, straightening, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Your Grace, I think he likes him well enough.”

Phillip’s hand stilled as he stared at his valet, “I’m not sure I understand your meaning.”

“I only say he doesn’t mind the cat, Your Grace. Well, at first, of course, he was cross at you for bringing it home, if you don’t mind me saying, Your Grace,” Gregory shrugged sheepishly, “Once it was allowed to roam the house, it began to follow him everywhere and nearly tripped him to his death on those stairs.”

Phillip only smiled at his charge; he couldn’t be mad at it when there had been no harm done.

“But it’s as if he’s grown accustomed to it now,” Gregory continued, “They spend a remarkable amount of the day together.”

“You don’t say,” Phillip said drly, looking up at his valet, searching his hazel eyes.

“Yes, Your Grace. It’s taken quite a shine to Mr. Barrow. Why just yesterday it sat in his lap as he read the newspaper downstairs.”

How peculiar, Phillip thought, now thinking himself far too kind about Thomas’ supposed aversion to the cat. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste, is there, Sir Cat?” He said calmly, though internally he was thinking of ways to expose Thomas for the liar that he was.

The news that Thomas’ dislike of the cat could have all been show excited a dark part of Phillip; of course he couldn’t resist its cute face. But most importantly, if it were true, then Phillip had not failed to impress Thomas once again with a present he didn’t think he needed; Phillip had been made to feel humble, and now Phillip was prepared to catch Thomas in his lies and make him feel terrible for it. That was why later in the afternoon, when Phillip knew Thomas usually took a short break in the servant’s dining hall, he snuck downstairs and padded towards the hall.

His silent approach went unnoticed by Thomas, who sat smoking looking over some sheets. His left arm was stretched out along the wood so he could grip the top corner of the page, while his right held his cigarette and pen aloft. The position also allowed Sir Cat to rest against his extended arm, while he licked at his belly aggressively.

“Doth mine eyes deceive me?” Phillip cried theatrically from the door jamb. Thomas startled from his slouched position and for a brief moment, utter panic flitted over his face. The cat, jolted from Thomas’ arm when he shifted, halted its grooming and stared at Phillip, as if he committed a heinous crime.

Thomas smoothed his features and squared his shoulders, drawing himself tall in his seat, “I can hardly be held accountable for where and how that cat spends its time,” he said, trying for cavalier but Phillip knew; he knew better, and he _knew_ Thomas and all of his looks and all of his tones.

“So if I were to take a look at your lap, I wouldn’t find any cat hairs on your trousers, would I?”

Thomas stared unblinkingly at him for a moment before narrowing his eyes, “Who have you been talking to?”

“Oh, I have many eyes and many ears in this house, Mr. Barrow, all of whom expect my utmost discretion.”

Thomas ground his cigarette into his ashtray, “Look, I admit, I have pet the creature on occasion, but – it’s not because I look for it. It’s always meowing for attention. It’s easier this way, you see.”

Phillip nodded sagely, “Of course. I believe you when thousands wouldn’t.” He savoured the peculiar twist to Thomas’ features for a moment before twirling around and heading back towards the stairs, grinning madly. He was satisfied to leave the matter for the remainder of the day.

A few hours after dinner that night, Phillip went to his room to find the book he had left at his bedside table. He opened his door, surprised to find Thomas bent over the foot of their bed, oblivious to his entrance, a broad smile cleaving his face nearly in two. A large mass underneath the sheets twisted the duvet wildly, as Thomas poked at the lump. Fast as lightning, the bulge rolled, aiming for his hand; his fingers were enveloped completely between two pieces of the duvet before they were released and it moved back into his original position. The duvet shifted to reveal a bushy tail swishing madly, as Thomas continued to jab at what Phillip now knew was the cat a few more times.

“Did I hear you giggle?”

The speed at which Thomas stood upright sent a sympathetic twinge through Phillip’s back. He turned towards the door.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.” Thomas tittered suspiciously, and refused to meet his eyes, "I was trying to get him out from under the sheets." Beneath the covers, the cat fidgeted and trilled its annoyance in being left alone, but Thomas kept his hands at his sides. Phillip smiled benignly and shut and locked the door with a click.

“Darling,” he cooed, taking sauntering steps towards the butler, “your continued denial of your love is really quite sweet.”

He reached out and trailed his fingers through Thomas’ hair, liberating the strands from the stiff pomade he insisted on using. Thomas twitched his head out from under Phillip’s probing fingers with a scowl, pressing a palm against his hair, “Don’t.”

Phillip merely hummed; only Thomas could be so solemn about the most silliest of things, but he dropped his hand to the back of Thomas’ neck, leaving the hair alone. Instead he kneaded the taut skin at the nape. Drawing the hand forward, he cupped Thomas’ jaw, thumb caressing his cheek, as he stepped towards the other, pressing his body against him until any remaining space between them was nil. He flared his nostrils in an attempt to imprint the scent that was uniquely Thomas: something warm and peppery. Thomas rested his hands on Phillip’s hips, pulling him towards his own, so close he could feel him through his trousers, and their lips met in the middle. Thomas licked at his lips and deepened the kiss, filling his mouth, while he sent an insistent hand to roam the expanse of Phillip’s back, fingers slipping under his braces. Phillip gasped into Thomas’ open mouth as the other hand grasped his backside. Phillip’s own hands found their way back to Thomas thick hair, and they were met with little resistance, as Thomas’ mouth was otherwise preoccupied.

Thomas shifted so he could grind against the other, pressing himself against Phillip’s hip. A soft sigh escaped parted lips – warm and content – as Thomas turned and buried his face into Phillip’s neck, nipping a trail along the sensitive skin there, the sound and feel of his hot breath sending shivers down Phillip’s spine when he hovered close to his ear. Phillip recaptured his lips, and he put out a searching hand towards the bed, pulling Thomas down with him.

He nearly jumped back to his feet in shock when he heard an agonized screech from underneath the covers. He hastily rolled away from lump that he had accidentally landed on, while Thomas managed to stay standing, despite being pulled along the edge of the bed by Phillip, whose hand was still entwined in his lapel.

Phillip let go and turned onto his back, his knees knocking against Thomas’ at the edge of the bed, and looked at the streak of fur that ran into his dressing room. “Oh no!” Phillip panted with a laugh, calling after the cat, “We didn’t mean to, Sir Cat!”

Thomas cocked his head to the side, his eyes glittering with desire and something else – something that sent a prickle of apprehension down his spine when he towered over him as he now did.

“Did you just call him ‘Sir Cat’?” Thomas managed to look condescending even though his cheeks were flushed with a slash of scarlet; and his pupils blown dangerously wide, the blue practically non-existent against the black; and Phillip could very easily see him outlined in his trousers. The tables had turned terribly against his favour.

Phillip growled and looped his hands into Thomas’ trousers where his braces clasped the fabric. Giving a hearty yank, he pulled until Thomas fell on top of him. Thomas planted both palms at either side of his head as his arms steadied him, his body draped over his lover’s. Phillip groaned as his weight settled almost solely on the crux of Phillip’s trousers, one leg in particular pressing against his growing hardness.

“It’s your fault, you know. You refuse to name him.” Phillip admonished as he rutted his hips against Thomas, “I tired quickly of referring to him as ‘cat’ whenever I spoke or thou—,” his breath hitched mid-sentence when Thomas’ hips responded in kind, “t-thought of him.”

Thomas drew back and shifted to straddle Phillip, grinding his pelvis against the other’s, an infuriating smile still twisting his swollen lips even though he was straining in what Phillip knew to be a painful manner against his trousers; they both were now. His hands pressed firmly against Phillip’s tense lower abdomen, “But ‘Sir Cat’? That’s hardly any better than leaving it as ‘cat’.” He paused in mock thought, shaking his head, “No, in fact, it’s worse.”

Phillip could only growl and pinched him sharply at his side, making the other chuckle. Phillip raised his hips to meet Thomas’ just as he ground down; Phillip grasped his lover’s backside as he did so, digging at the natural cleft and parting it slightly before crushing him ever closer.

Finally that maddening grin dissolved; Thomas’ mouth slackened and his eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed against the tight fabric of his slacks. He licked his lips as he opened hooded eyes slowly to Phillip’s gaze, the sound of laboured breath going straight to Phillip’s cock.

Frenzied fingers fumbled first with Phillip’s vest, then shirt buttons, chasing each inch of skin exposed to the air with a heated kiss, scorching a trail of longing into the memory of his skin. “I still think,” he said between kisses, “that ‘Sir Cat’… is a ridiculous,” he groaned against his skin when Phillip grasped him through the fabric, “n-name…. Lacks creativity.”

Chest now fully uncovered, Phillip allowed Thomas to push the linen off his shoulders before his own hands went to Thomas’ vest and shirt, taking less care than his partner did with his own. He had barely unfastened the buttons before he pushed the fabric – suit, vest, and shirt – off all in one go; mindful, however, to press the flesh of his palms against Thomas’ now bare torso.

Then he turned to the trouser buttons. Once unfastened, he pulled them and his pants down to his knees, revealing a dark thatch of hair from which sprung an impressively hard cock. Raging desire surged heavily through his belly at the sight, and Phillip he took him in hand, as he cupped Thomas’ balls with the other, releasing and trailing fingers along the sensitive track of skin between his arse and bollocks. He pressed into the skin, where his pulse throbbed, and smirked when Thomas shuddered. Thomas dipped down and captured Phillip’s welcoming lips in a passionate kiss, lips unreasonably soft against Phillip’s own, tongues tying together.

Thomas broke their embrace and rolled off of him to kick of his trousers from the remainder of his legs, allowing Phillip a chance to respond, “Then you suggest something more _creative_.”

“Easy,” Thomas’ voice was husky with need. Thomas was back on top of him immediately, working at Phillip’s trouser buttons, while Phillip rubbed his hands up his bare thighs, moving up his stomach to caress his chest where he teased his nipples. Soon, Thomas was working the fabric over his erection and off of his legs. He returned to his position and opened his mouth to offer a suggestion as Phillip reached between them.

“How abou—,” Thomas faltered when Phillip gripped the base of his penis and flexed. “G-gregory?” he moaned.

“You suggest I name our cat after my valet,” The sound of the other man’s name oddly arousing coming from Thomas’ wrecked voice. The thought of the younger man as a flushed player in a similar tableau was thrilling in a curious way. He had dressed and undressed Phillip so many times that the notion had honestly never crossed his mind. But Gregory was not unhandsome, so his flickering spectre in Phillip’s mind’s eye was so unexpected and fresh that he welcomed the addition. His pulse raced when he wondered how it would feel to share the feverish heat of all three of their bodies and how he would taste in comparison to Thomas.

Above him, Thomas shook his head, eyes clenched, forehead creased in concentration as Phillip began to stroke him again. He opened his eyes and released a shuddering breath from glistening, crimson lips. The same lips that pressed into a line when Phillip rubbed his thumb over his head.

“Come on,” Phillip encouraged, loving that Thomas was rendered inarticulate because of _him_. He caressed his bollocks, “Another.”

Thomas bit his lip, “R-richard.”

Phillip halted his hand’s movements and lifted an eyebrow, “My middle name?”

Thomas growled, and Phillip smirked when he bucked into his motionless hand, tickled by his partner’s petulance. This was his form of penance for having lied to Phillip about the cat; for having made Phillip fear he had given a terrible gift; for being insufferably cute while playing with it on the duvet. He deserved to be held there; he just didn't know it yet. Phillip pushed him so that he fell onto the bed and climbed on top of him.

“Phillip,” Thomas begged, reaching down between them, but Phillip pushed his hands away. Thomas hands went to his sides, fisting the fabric of the sheets as he pushed up into Phillip. The way his voice cracked over his name made Phillip want to do anything for him. He began to stroke his shaft, sending a hand to drift further to palpate again at his perineum.

“What’s your next suggestion?”

“Hmm?” Thomas was lost, raising his hips to meet the rhythm of Phillip’s fist, delicate sounds escaping his lips.

“Another name, Thomas, for the cat?” Phillip continued to touch him, generously offering a second chance to answer, for he was not too concerned about actually arriving at a name for the animal; rather, it was a means to an end. And for this particular end, Phillip wanted Thomas a sweaty, begging mess. Which was why, having just asked him the question, he pressed a finger into him, twisting within his heat.

With extreme concentration, Thomas ground out “I-I don’t know.” Immediately, Phillip withdrew.

“Ah, um,” Thomas started frantically, “Clarence.. Johnathan” it seemed that he finally figured out Phillip’s game. When Phillip renewed his efforts, Thomas continued, “Chr-Christian… Joshua… A-Alexander, ah, Christ, whatever name you bloody want, you can have it.”

Phillip grinned, “I don’t think I should enjoy calling for Christ at dinner time, Thomas.”

He joked, but by now, his own unbridled need had started to burn distractingly, encouraged with every sound Thomas made. Though he had yet to touch himself while he was atop Thomas, he was hard, stirred on by his partner, and he was quickly filled with an undeniable craving to join Thomas at the edge, to be touched. He curved downwards to capture Thomas’ mouth with his own, the nip of teeth against his lips a thrilling contrast with the supple brush of his lips. He crushed the both of them together, desperate to have his tongue fill him, feeling their cocks held between their stomachs.

“Touch me,” Phillip whispered raggedly as he withdrew and grasped both of their cocks together, guiding Thomas’ hand to them. They worked together, stroking their hands up and down their joined members, setting a dizzying rhythm. A burgeoning black whole ready to consume him grew within, its blistering core expanding and threatening to engulf him entirely, distorting thought. Phillip let go and writhed slightly, eager to press himself into Thomas’ hands with a moan. He set his hands to the other’s man skin, roaming its acres, hoping to chart it and add it to the atlas he kept. Thoughts of the cat and names were now a fleeting memory, and nothing beyond the room – nothing beyond those hands and their pace – existed. Thomas’ hands sped up and the heat roiling deep within Phillip’s belly grew, and he gasped at the sensation. Desire throbbed in time with his wildly beating heart, thudding loud and strong against his chest, until all he could hear was the rushing of blood in his ears and the obscene sound of their flesh meeting in Thomas’ hands.

“I think I’m—,” Thomas panted, his hand moving more frantic than before, eye clenched tight.

“Yes,” Phillip moaned, closing his eyes in time with Thomas’ broken groan, his hand once again joining Thomas’ in rubbing their now slick cocks together.

Thomas swallowed audibly, “I—I,” His eyes opened a crack and locked on to Phillip’s own, mouth hanging opening brokenly . His hand faltered and his body spasmed, core tightening. He came into his hand with a keen as he curled inwards. Phillip continued to stroke as his lover rode out the waves of his orgasm, admiring the twist of his features as he continued to twitch, but he unhanded himself, deciding to instead hold out; his body hummed as he exacted control. While Thomas still shuddered below him, Phillip caught the hand before it could go to the sheets, eliciting a moan from Thomas when he sucked at the digits, savouring the taste against his tongue. With a sigh, Thomas sank deeper into the mattress, head drifting to the side. They shared this tableau for a moment, as Thomas' heaving chest evened out and Phillip drew on his fingers.

Thomas opened his eyes and met Phillip's briefly before darting to his erection. He pressed his thumbs against Phillip's hip bones, guiding him towards the bed. Now laying flush against his body, he shifted until he had enough leverage to drag himself down Phillip's body, kissing his skin, until his face was next to his unflagging erection. Pressing a kiss at the junction where his leg and pelvis met, Thomas brushed at his thighs. He mumbled something inconsequential before he took him whole into the heat of his mouth, nose buried in the hair at the base of his penis; Phillip could feel the warm puff of his breath there. Phillip gripped Thomas’ shoulder against the sensation, his breath ragged. Phillip’s toes curled when Thomas withdrew to suck his head, trailing the tip of a finger along the underside of his prick. Twisting his fingers in Thomas’ hair, he bit at his lips as Thomas began to bob, tongue undulating against the underside of his prick, twirling over the tip. The sight alone of his partner between his legs, mouth covering his intimacy, was almost enough to drive him over the edge he dangerously skirted along; he needed Thomas, for every fibre of his being, for every pulse of his heart, for every wave of pleasure called out for his partner, leaving him trembling and incoherent.

One hand of Thomas’ pressed as a brand against the jutting bone of Phillip’s hip, while the other ventured backwards, massaging his bollocks and then pressing a finger at his hole. He groaned as he felt Thomas’ skillful finger begin to probe, searching for the cluster of nerves, all the while Thomas’ lips still covered him. Phillip gasped, “Right there,” as Thomas finally made contact and rubbed the hardening bundle, Phillip’s body turning icy hot as an agonisingly perfect pressure began to build within. Phillip whined when Thomas withdrew, teasing him at the precipice, and Thomas responded with a muffled sound that could have been a moan or a laugh for fair play. But Phillip was too lost to care and practically sobbed when the digit returned, caressing in a maddeningly gentle fashion. Thomas manipulated the tissue, just barely grazing it before rubbing back and forth, building in tempo until Phillip was nearly undone.

Phillip could only tighten his grip on Thomas’ hair, whimpering as he pressed down on Thomas’ finger just as he stroked upwards, causing a surge of electric pleasure to radiate outwards from the nexus of nerves. It had become so hot in the room it felt as if the very air would ignite with a match. He had forgotten to breathe, chest and stomach contracted tight. “Thomas!” he gasped wetly again for air, twisting his head against the pillow. He was delirious, afflicted with need, as the massaging finger felt so unbelievably good and raw that it aired on the side of painful; he was too close. Sweat beaded at his temples, and he flung out a hand to twist into the sheets, straining against the ever more urgent need for release.

He scraped at Thomas’ now wild hair and bit out breathlessly, “Ah, Thomas, I—“

Thomas hummed around his cock, and then the soaring bliss peaked bright and tremendous, overwhelming everything else. He came with a strangled sound whose origins were deep at the back of his throat, and he tensed, curling around his partner. Liquid hot pleasure throbbed outwards from where Thomas still stroked him, through his cock, only to echo in waves deep within his belly. He dug deep into the flesh of his shoulder and pulled at the strands of his hair, as his own body shuddered. Phillip’s chest laboured in time with the erratic pounding of his heart, still reeling from the shockwaves, eyes now clamped shut.

When he opened them, Thomas was kneeling before him, drawing the back of his hand against his lips. Phillip raised a hand and dragged a thumb against Thomas’ lower lip, swollen and obscene, before he pulled him down for a kiss. Thomas lowered himself until he was lying next to Phillip and pulled back, resting his head against Phillip’s chest. The weight and heat of his partner’s body made him feel lethargic in the afterglow, so he was content to hug Thomas closer and doze like that for a while longer. He sunk heavily into the bed, sighing as his pulse gradually began to slow.

He was unsure of how much time had passed when he felt Thomas begin to fidget against him. He could feel him push to his elbow, and Phillip smiled under his watchful gaze. He opened his eyes when he felt Thomas begin to message his stomach, circling the skin around his navel. When his hand dipped lower, Phillip hummed.

“Do not presume to think this an objection, for it isn’t, but won’t you be missed downstairs?” A valid point, if Phillip was being fair, as it was still early evening with several hours left to the day’s work. He bucked when Thomas’ hand squeezed gently.

“I’ve allowed Gregory an evening off in town, and I told the others that I am only to be disturbed if someone has died. And if they do and nobody’s dead, I promised they’d be wishing that they were. So I’d say we have at least another hour or so, _Your Grace_.” Thomas’ eyes sparkled as he spoke. He looked absolutely ridiculous, with his hair messy, simultaneously flicked up at the back and plastered against his forehead. It was at this point that Phillip realised he probably looked the same and grinned even harder for it, warmth spreading through his chest.

“Ah,” Phillip grinned, “good boy.” He pulled him down in a kiss, rolling until he lay atop Thomas.

“Duke,” Thomas said suddenly into Phillip’s lips.

Phillip, undeterred, moved to his jaw, licking and sucking at the skin near his neck. “Pardon?” he asked, lips still pressed against his flesh.

“Duke. For the cat. I’d like to name him Duke," he shifted under his mouth, "He certainly has the attitude for it."

Phillip chuckled and repeated the name, getting a feel for the consonances against his tongue. “I think it fits,” he smiled, reaching out for the petroleum jelly kept in his bedside table.

**

Phillip was propped up in their bed reading when Thomas returned from his evening chores later that night. With only a mumbled greeting, he largely ignored his partner as he slowly shucked his clothes and returned them to the appropriate drawers, hangers, and hampers. Once clothed in his pyjamas, Thomas quickly slipped between the covers and stretched onto his back with a weary sigh.

When Phillip cast a glance towards his bedmate at a break in his chapter, he saw that Thomas’ body was already lax with sleep, mouth slack and chest moving evenly. He smiled affectionately and returned to his book and finished several pages before he felt the bed dip with a small weight; Duke had jumped at the end of the bed between their feet and was staring at him with wide eyes – eyes that were liquid pools shimmering in the warm glow of Phillip’s reading lamp – and once again Phillip was struck with an overwhelming fondness for the creature.

Duke began to pad gingerly up the bed between their bodies, tail erect, and Phillip held out a hand for the cat to sniff, but Duke only sat and stared at it, flaring his nostrils. He chose to turn to look at Thomas instead, and after a moment, put two hesitant paws up onto his chest.

Thomas swallowed, squirming under the cat slightly. “Well, come on then if you’re coming,” he said, voice thick with sleep, and, without opening his eyes, lifted the duvet from his chest slightly.

To Phillip’s surprise, Duke pushed his head into the offered opening and slinked in, arching his body back in a stretch as he stood on top of Thomas’ chest. Duke then sat, staring at Thomas, who kept the duvet still raised in the air, before he slouched and stretched himself along Thomas’ chest, paws outstretched towards his neck. Thomas lowered the duvet just as Duke began to knead his paws into the fabric of his shirt, and Phillip smirked to hear a loud purr emit from beneath the covers.

“Huh,” Phillip said finally, utterly surprised to see the cat cuddle Thomas, and more importantly, to see Thomas accept him so openly.

Thomas cracked an eye lid and looked at Phillip without moving his head.

“Thank you,” he whispered, a small smile gracing his lips. His eyes, the pattern of loyalty imprinted on his irises, expressed the tenderness of his devotion and the promise of unlocked treasures. They conveyed emotions so thick that for a brief moment Phillip felt as though he could touch them, feel their texture against his bare skin, and lock them in an embrace. Thomas reached out a hand and grasped Phillip’s hand, squeezing once, before returning the hand to rest on top of Duke.

“For you,” Phillip stated, “anything.”


End file.
